


Return

by bennykill709



Series: Return [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Augmented Reality, Cyberpunk, Dubious Morality, Dystopia, Foul Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Violence, POV First Person, Science Fiction, Unreliable Narrator, Virtual Reality, implied/referenced sexual violence, post-cyberpunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennykill709/pseuds/bennykill709
Summary: A woman is pulled away from the life she prefers and goes to extreme lengths to return.
Series: Return [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003941
Kudos: 1





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of the story proper. The context to what happened previously isn't exactly necessary in my opinion, but if you would like to read it and haven't already, you can see it as a part of this series. Check the warnings, however.

When the liquid hit my lungs, it subsequently spewed out my mouth and nose in a geyser all over the table in front of me, and some on the man sitting across from me. I coughed and gasped for air and banged on the table in pain, and to top it off, I was currently in the throes of a massive orgasm. What I saw was too confusing to comprehend in the moment, so I shut my eyes, grabbed my crotch, and tried to imagine myself back in the scenario as I convulsed with my face pressed against the metal table in front of me. The picture wasn’t nearly as clear, and I felt none of the sensations I was enjoying. The orgasm subsided with no fanfare as I caught my breath, then sat up in my seat to take a proper look at my surroundings.

I was in a large cafeteria with hundreds of other people. I was sitting on a metal bench at a matching table with a plate in front of me. A brick of processed and hardened bread sat on the plate, and a tall glass of opaque beige paste stood nearby, and spots of the paste were scattered across the table, even onto the meal and clothing of a man on the other side of the table. I instinctively blushed and bowed my head

“Oh my god! I am so sorry, I-“ I said, until I noticed that the man wasn’t concerned at all. He continued eating the brick, methodically, taking a sip of paste between each bite. He wasn’t even looking at me. Nobody was. I looked up and down the table, and everybody was eating the same thing, looking straight ahead, not paying mind to anything in their surroundings. Everyone was wearing the same bland grey uniform that matched the surrounding scenery.

When I noticed the digital HUD in the corners of my vision, I realized what had happened. I wasn’t in Wonderland anymore. I had returned to meat space. I let out an audible scoff, then looked at my opened palm to start navigating my Interface. It had been a while, but the interface hadn’t seemed to change too much beyond some minor visual tweaks. I went straight to Wonderland to try opening it, but I was presented with an error. Unable to Start Puppeteer.

“What the fuck?” I said, as I navigated to the Puppeteer app. The first option, Resume, was greyed out, but I pressed it anyway and received a new message. Medical Anomaly Detected. Medical Professional override required before resuming Puppeteer. I ignored the warning, pressing Resume again, and receiving the same response. I frantically pressed Resume as I felt my frustration rising, until it bubbled over with a “Fuck!” and a slam on the table loud enough to echo off the plain, quiet walls. None of the people around me flinched, looked my way, or had a reaction of any kind. They were all in Wonderland, and they were all using Puppeteer to control their bodies while their minds were occupied. I blushed, and

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know where I was. Last thing I remember before Wonderland was… what was it? I had been in for so long. I mean, I swear that some of my lives were years long, but in the heat of the moment (which was all the time, by design), I never thought about tracking time. I stood up from the table and lost my balance immediately, nearly faceplanting onto the floor, but catching myself with an awkward stumble. My muscles weren’t sore, exactly, nor did they really hurt, they just felt… different, and slow. I followed some of the people who were trickling out of the cafeteria after their meals.

There were some winding hallways, then most passed by a room labeled Fluid Donation in a minimalist design. Beyond that, the puppets entered the Exercise/Power Generation room. It was the size of a factory floor with exercise equipment occupying every available space. That’s when I remembered.

A program was advertised that worked directly with Puppeteer. It offered to keep your body safe and on a healthy schedule and diet while you were in cyberspace, connected to a legendarily secure and stable network. In exchange, the program produced power via the exercise equipment and sold it back to the power grid. It also served as a blood bank, hence the Fluid Donation room. When I saw the ads, the prospect of leaving this stupid fucking planet forever was just too good to pass up. So I signed up and linked my profile with Puppeteer, who took over immediately, and I was gone. I think I was even standing in the street at the time.

God, I didn’t think it would look like this. Everything was square, basic, boring. I guess this place wouldn’t really be seen by anybody anyway. I turned away from the Exercise room and wandered through the hallways until I found an exit to the building. The street wasn’t any more vibrant. The buildings all around were dull and colorless. I suppose they were all headed that way anyway what with digital ads covering everything. But now, even the ads were gone. I never thought I would miss capitalism assaulting my eyes at every second, but at least it was colorful. The sky was blue, so that was nice.

The building I had come from was massive and monolithic. Terra Firma were the words written on its face. It was definitely not a building I recognized. I was having trouble with many of the others I could see. I had never seen them without ads, for one, but the signs had been removed and they looked unoccupied. I didn’t recognize the street names, and my instinct was to start asking anyone I could see. There was a man walking toward me on the sidewalk. I matched his stride as he passed.

“Excuse me, where am I?” I asked politely. There wasn’t a response, he just continued walking. I lightly tugged on the fabric of his shirt. “Excuse me?” He again continued walking. He was another puppet. I pulled much harder on his shirt, pulling him off of his stride. He immediately jumped and turned to face me while taking a step back.

“Shit! Jesus Christ!” The man had a look of fear on his face until he looked at me, then his fear turned to anger. “What the fuck are you doing?” He yelled.

“Sorry! I was just wondering if you knew where we are?” I asked. The mans jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” He said. I shook my head and started to blush. “Have you tried checking a map?” Then I felt humiliated. To be fair, maps were readily available at any moment through my interface. The man saw my humility, but didn’t care to ease it, saying “God Damn” as he shook his head and stepped away to resume his Puppeteer. He then continued walking with a very programmed cadence.

I opened the map immediately but couldn’t focus as I was already replaying the moment back, my anxiety spiking. The permanence of every decision was something I definitely didn’t miss about meat-space. And the map, dammit. Beyond some basic menus to start new lives or change lands, I haven’t used my interface proper in years; none of the lands I enjoyed even took place in the 21st century or later. The interface wasn’t diegetic, so it was useless to me.

When my thoughts quit racing, I read that I was, in fact, still in the same city I had been in when I started the program. Terra Firma was just a new addition to the skyline. I took a brief look at some of the nearby buildings and locations. Most were closed businesses, vacant space, or domiciles. The mystery of why the city seemed so empty was completely lost on me. All I wanted was to find a doctor and get back into Wonderland. So, I searched for the nearest hospital and requested a ride which arrived within a minute.

Traffic was almost non-existent compared to before. Before… Before I got lost in Wonderland. How long was I in there? I looked at my palm to open the interface. I’ve never been very good at technical stuff, so I just stumbled around the Wonderland menus until I found something with dates in it. It was the list of Lands I had been to and lives I’ve started. It was quite the exhaustive list. 411 Lives, almost all of them based on Earth pre-21st century. I didn’t really care much for the fantasy or sci-fi bullshit.

The list was sorted by most recent, and I started scrolling down. The most recent Lives were the longest, some of them being months long, but as I continued, they began to get shorter and shorter, until I got to many that lasted hours or less, from the period after I discovered the Black Lands. After scrolling past more than 100 Lives, the nostalgia for each Life and Land quickly faded, the memories had become a blur of violence: constant, brutal, and the most pleasurable experiences I have ever felt. It was a strange rabbit hole that I hadn’t expected, and one from which I may never emerge.

I found myself getting impatient and just scrolled down to the last gap in Wonderland playtime. Near the beginning, after my first 4 Lives. I looked at the date that the 5th started and compared it to current time.

12 years.


End file.
